No sooner am I back home, and recovered from what I’ll delicately refer to as Egyptian digestive tract problems, then I catch some kind of gross snorky cold thing. I am most definitely unimpressed. I blame the 25C drop in average daily temperature. Damnable English (lack of) summer.

Full of a cold. Rather now than when I’m on holiday, or at next week’s gaming weekend, but rather not at all than now with the sneezing and the sniffing and the coughing and the Lemsip that’s not working. On a nicer note though, Dorrie the kitten is very snuggly and, if not actively sympathetic, she’s happy to curl up beside me and let me stroke her. Which works for me too.

I decided to walk into work today. I was feeling unusually health-conscious, and figured it wouldn’t be too bad. I’ve walked in once before, but it was a long while ago, and not the middle of winter. It’s three miles into work, mostly uphill. I most strongly suggest to anyone feeling similarly active that they -don’t- wear boots like this when they walk in. It hurts. My feet are sore. I’ve slightly strained some muscle or other at the top of my right leg. I think my left big toe is developing a blister. But you know what? It felt great once I’d recovered enough at work. I even walked back home again. I might even walk in again - but in trainers next time! I must be mad.

As I mentioned a while ago on one of my other pages, I recently rejoined a weight loss group. I’m going to a wedding on 13 May in America, and I’m going to be the best man (convention be damned). I want to look good, and I want to be healthier. Simple. If I can lose 2lbs (0.9kg) per week between now and the wedding date, I’ll be just 2lbs shy of the target I’ve set myself. I’m not obese (defined as a body mass index of 30, compared to a healthy 20-25), but neither am I within that healthy range.

I think the attitude to weight in the western world is at best confusing, and at worst downright dangerous. Look in any weekly magazine, and you’ll find a plethora of stories relating to weight. Usually, the stories revolve around celebrities.

“Look at them! They’re too thin, they’re wasting away, they’ve taken it too far!”

In next week’s magazine, the headlines look different.

“She’s put on weight, she’s let herself go, is that a bulge or two?”

Then there’s the diets, both in magazines and online. Cabbage Soup. GI. Juicing. Raw. Gillian McKeith. Celebrity fads. No wonder there’s confusion. There’s the so called support groups, like the ‘Ana and Mia’ community sites. That’s anorexia and bulimia to you. But I don’t mean support for recovering sufferers of eating disorders. No, these sites promote the idealised body dysmorphic image. They post onto bulletin boards on how successful they’ve been in starving themselves. Or at the other end of the scale, how about something like the NAAFA? It’s the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance. They call themselves a human rights organisation and promote being happy with yourself. They do note that being fat shouldn’t be synonymous with being unfit, and advise some activity, but overall, aren’t both organisations as unhealthy as one another?

I’m taking it steady. The plan I’m on promotes healthy eating, and moderate exercise. There’s no starvation and no excess. So far, so good. 3.5lbs lost in two weeks, which is a healthy rate. I even went to the gym last night for the first time in forever. Here’s to my continued, healthy weight loss to reach a similarly healthy weight.

Ok, where’s the logic in this:
I call up my doctor’s surgery for a prescription. They have two separate numbers, one for appointments and one for prescriptions. Both phones are on the same desk. They answer the appointments line, and tell me to phone the prescriptions line. I phone the prescriptions line, and they tell me to phone back after 10.30am. Why?? They’ve answered the phone, they’re obviously there and physically able to take down the prescription details, so why do I have to wait another half hour just to be within their stupid time frame, especially when they could have taken down the details in the time it took them to tell me they had restricted hours and to phone back? To add to the stupidity, if I’d gone into the doctor’s office in person at 8.30am, they’d have taken my request for a prescription there and then!

I am offically Happy.
As I’ve not mentioned, I joined Weight Watchers two months ago to shift the excess weight that’s crept up on me over the last 5 years. In the first month, up to the end of May, I lost 6.5lbs. Due to birthdays and holidays, I hadn’t been since May 28th. Having spent the last couple of weeks eating generally celebratory food or stuffing myself down in London, I highly expected upon returning to the meetings to have put on some of the weight I already lost. Au contraire. I’ve lost another 5lbs!
To celebrate, I went out and bought a dress for the charity black-tie ball I’m going to on July 16th. It’s beautiful, and it looks like this.

The Terri Schiavo case has been in the news for some time now - in fact, I remember reading about it a couple of years ago when Jeb Bush stepped in to intercede on Schiavo’s parents’ behalf. Now she’s died after having her feeding tube removed 13 days ago.

I find it astonishing that this legal battle for a person’s life went on for 15 years. Terri Schiavo was in what the doctors described as a ‘persistent vegetative state’ all that time. There are some - i.e. her parents - that say that she should have been given every chance to recover, even if that meant maintaining the feeding tube for the rest of her natural life. Her ex-husband, on the other hand, felt it was more humane to let her die, stating that he didn’t believe Terri would have wanted to live that way. I actually agree with the ex-husband. Terri’s parents talked about getting smiles and other signs of life out of her; but ‘life’ is very different to ‘quality of life’, and I don’t think Terri Schiavo had any of the latter.

What I don’t agree with, however, is the way in which Terri Schiavo died. Her feeding tube was removed, and she slowly starved to death over a period of a little under two weeks. Whether she was consciously aware or in pain or not, starving someone to death is horribly inhumane.
Euthanasia is still a huge moral dilemma. Ultimately, I believe if there’s no quality of life, death by choice should be an option - but not slowly and drawn out.

Ness and I joined the gym at Ponds Forge yesterday. Because we both work in the public sector, we were eligible for corporate membership, at a considerable (over 25%) discount. Tonight, we went out there after work for an induction, being shown round the machines and stuff. Headed for the pool after that, more to get used to swimming than to do any vigorous laps. Even that was pretty exhausting, showing just how unfit we are. Undeterred, we got out of the pool after around 45 mins and had something to eat, then I (fool that I am) decided to do a Tai Bo class. Ness couldn’t because of knee problems, but she watched me torture myself for an hour. I got through it, just. Now exhausted, but in a good way, at least. Heading off for a shower to rid myself of the chlorine and sweat, then I’m getting an early night. I’ve got to be up at 6am to catch a train to Manchester for a work related seminar. Gluttons for punishment as we are, Ness and I are going to the gym again tomorrow evening to do a fitness assessment and programme plan with the trainers. I forsee many aching muscles.

Been out cycling today, out towards the Peak District. Originally, Richard and I had planned to go out towards the Strines or Ladybower. I cycled out from my place up to Crookes, meeting Richard there, and then the two of us cycled out along the Manchester Road for several miles to the Rivelin Valley Road. As we were planning what to do next (go on, or go back), it started to rain, so we decided to head back. The rain got heavier. By the time we got back to civilisation after a couple of miles slog (thankfully mild) uphill, it was absolutely chucking it down. We both got soaked to the skin. By the time we got to the top of the hill and started freewheeling back down into Crookes, the rain was so heavy that the water in my eyes meant I could barely see where I was going. I loved it. We stopped back in Crookes for a 10 min breather, and wouldn’t you know it, then the rain stopped. Richard and I split up again from there, and I cycled back home soggily. All told, I was out for 3 hours, and cycled a 13 mile round trip. Not too bad at all.
Going to the cinema later - and I’m cycling there. I must be mad? Nah. Only a 10 min cycle from here to the cinema.

It was hot today. Really, really hot. As in, opening windows didn’t cool the house down at all. Still, come winter everyone will be complaining that it’s too cold, so I’m making the most of it.

I decided I wanted to do something about my back garden. It needs mowing, which I can do easily with guy-from-next-door’s lawnmower. However, all around the borders a load of weeds have sprung up. My garden backs onto a soundbreak, and plants have crept under the wooden fence and invaded my garden. As a result I have not flowering borders, but thistle, nettle, and random ugly plant borders. The only problem is, I don’t own any gardening tools. I wouldn’t know the first thing about neatening up a garden, other than mowing it. I made a half-hearted attempt at yanking out some weeds, but only succeeded in getting stung by nettles. I gave up quickly and I’ve decided to get someone who knows what they’re doing (and who owns proper equipment!) - i.e. a gardener - to sort it out.

Gardening ideas abandoned, I went out on my bike again, taking the same route along the Five Weirs Walk as last week:

1. The spider bridge
2. Entrance to the Five Weirs Walk
3. Walk Mill weir
4. Burton weir
5. Sanderson’s weir
6. Thomson’s Salmon bench
7. The river bridge at Hecla

I know that’s only three of the five weirs - the other two are further along. I got off at Valley again, and went to see Veronica Guerin (v. good) at the cinema - thank God for air conditioning, I was dying of heat exhaustion by that point. Amazingly, it hadn’t cooled down by the time I left the cinema, and it was like walking into a wall of heat as I stepped outside. Still, I managed to cycle back home without killing myself. I may even go out on my bike tomorrow!